


Melt With You

by monsterleadmehome



Series: Smutty Reylo Oneshots [18]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attempt at Humor, F/M, Ice Cream, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-21 05:10:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19996402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monsterleadmehome/pseuds/monsterleadmehome
Summary: The ice cream man is ruining Rey's summer. She hears that damn song all the time, but never gets any ice cream. She finally is able to catch the elusive truck and intends to tell him off, but he's not at all what she imagined.





	Melt With You

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Anniversary, CaPpers! This is dedicated to all you lovely ladies, but especially to [ohwise1ne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohwise1ne/pseuds/ohwise1ne) who shares my hatred of the ice cream man.
> 
> Thanks to [obsessivepropulsive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsessivepropulsive/pseuds/obsessivepropulsive) for the beta!

_ Do your ears hang low? _

_ Do they wobble to and fro? _

_ Can you tie them in a knot? _

_ Can you tie them in a bow? _

“ARGGHHH!” Rey screams as her brain effortlessly supplies the lyrics to the song that’s been incessantly repeating itself for the past 30 minutes. If she has to hear one more fucking repetition she’s going to throw herself off the fire escape of her 5th floor walkup. 

She glances out the window, but it’s just as she suspects—the ice cream man is nowhere near her corner. She can hear the kids screaming and a basketball dribbling on the cement, though, so it can’t be far. 

She wouldn’t be so annoyed—if only she could get some ice cream. But by the time she scrounges up enough extra change for a $3 cone (weren’t they 50 pence when she was a kid in London?) and makes her way down the 4 flights of stairs, the truck is always gone. 

But no, the ice cream man is there mostly for the kids, as it should be—he’s certainly not waiting around for the 22-year-old waitress with a sweet tooth to get her shit together and come for some of that silky smooth soft serve. At least she assumes it’s a he. She’s never seen an ice cream woman, after all. But surely they exist somewhere. 

Should she try tonight? The humidity hangs over the city like a gross blanket, thick and cloying the moment you step outside. It’s the sticky part of summer—the time when you have to shower daily to wash the sweat of fellow commuters off your body because you’ve been stuck next to them on the train for a whole 45 minutes, morning and evening. Rey is currently posted in front of her window A/C unit, wearing only a camisole and short shorts.

But _fuck_ , does a vanilla cone sound promising.

She actually has some singles in her jar by the door—she hasn’t spent all her tip money from the weekend just yet. So she goes for it, slipping on a pair of weather-beaten flats, grabbing her keys and hoofing it down the 4 flights of stairs. She steps out into the hazy New York twilight and tries to follow the wretched tune as it repeats for the millionth time. But no sooner does she turn the corner than it stops. 

Shit.

* * *

The cycle continues for 3 more days. 

Each time, Rey dashes off to find the elusive ice cream man, and each time she is left wanting. By the fourth day, she is livid—for more reasons than just ice cream. Kaydel quit abruptly so now Rey and Finn are picking up extra shifts. She also had a table full of frat boys tonight, who said so many inappropriate things she was forced to start tuning them out. Then as they were about to leave, one of them wadded up her tip money and stuffed it in her shirt. “This isn’t fucking Hooters!” she yelled at their retreating forms. But it was a lot of money. And Rey needs the money. So she keeps the shitty job and extra shifts. 

“Want me to beat them up for you?” Finn means well, but she would never allow him to do that—not on her account. Not when he would lose his job. After all, Poe is a starving street artist (who actually makes a shit ton selling his half-assed paintings to unassuming tourists for $25 a pop).

“Nah, it’s fine. I could kick their asses if I wanted to.” And she does want to, but she also needs this job.

All of this could be mitigated by some creamy soft serve, but it’s now nearly midnight and the time for the ice cream man has come and gone—or so she thinks. But as she rises from the subway station and crosses the 3 streets home, she sees it. She hears it first—that infernal song announcing the arrival of Wampa Freeze and all the frozen bounty he provides. 

The asshole is stopped at a light, his obnoxiously long arm hanging out of the window with a lit cigarette perched in the grip of his obnoxiously large hand. He doesn’t look like he’s open for business, but as she watches him bring the cigarette to his ridiculously plush lips and take a drag, something inside Rey snaps. “Oi, you wanker!” she screams as she scurries over and begins banging on the hood of the truck—van—whatever it is. “It’s fucking midnight! Can you for the love of God TURN OFF THIS INFERNAL MUSIC?!”

The man—who she realizes now is quite attractive in the moonlight, explosions of moles on his pale face, with an aquiline nose and dark eyes that look like they’ve seen everything—just stares at her for a moment, like he can’t quite believe that this young and fairly innocuous looking British woman has assaulted his vehicle in such a fashion. “Can’t. It’s broken. I turn on the truck and the music starts.”

_ Motherfucker _ . Rey whines, the desperate noise of someone who has had it up to  _ here _ with life and could really use some goddamn ice cream—or a decent fuck. “Then please… is there any way I could get some ice cream? I’ve had a really bad day.”

“I’ll say.” He pulls over as the light turns green so the other cars can pass. Then he stubs out the cigarette and disappears into the rear of the truck. 

Rey goes around to the side where the menu is displayed. There’s options for swirls and dips and sprinkles—but all she wants is a plain vanilla cone. Her face lights up as the man slides aside the window. “So what do you want?”

With the interior light on she can see him more clearly. He is definitely sexy, all waves of dark hair and firm muscles under a white t-shirt. He looks big—she wonders how he fits in that tiny truck all day. “Vanilla cone, please.”

“Coming right up.” As he grabs a little cake cone and starts the machine, he talks to her some more. “So you live close by?”

“Yes, but I can never seem to catch you when you’re making your rounds! I swear I’ve had nightmares about this fucking song.”

“I know, it’s ridiculous, but how else are you going to announce the arrival of the friendly neighborhood ice cream man than a song all the parents remember from their childhood?” He cracks a smile and she catches herself staring at his mouth—it’s a very pretty mouth.

He hands her the cone, and Rey could nearly cry it’s so beautiful. “How much?” She’s got several bills waiting in her jean pocket.

“On the house,” he says. “You look like you’ve had a rough night—and anyone who bangs on an off-duty ice cream truck needs a little sweetness in their life, I think. What’s your name, by the way?”

“Rey,” she mumbles before taking a big bite off the top. “Mmm that’s fucking fantastic.” She licks the little dribble off the cone and tries not to notice the way he watches her.

“I’m Ben. So next time you need to scream at me, you can use my name.”

“I’ll remember that.” She takes another big lick and tracks his eyes as they darken. He’s definitely staring at her mouth. “Thank you, Ben.” She winks at him as she walks down the street towards her apartment.

“You’re welcome, Rey!” He’s leaning out of the little window when she turns to see him and it makes her laugh—a full bodied laugh that she hasn’t experienced in days, probably—not since Finn showed her his impression of their manager Ackbar.

Maybe the ice cream man isn’t so bad.

* * *

The next time she sees him, he’s waiting for her on the same street. It’s later tonight, closer to 12:30am and he’s smoking again. The infernal song is repeating at full volume. “Are you stalking me now?”

He smirks. God, that mouth. “I figured, you live around here, you work late—you might need ice cream again.”

“Is that so?” She smiles, already feeling the weight of all the screaming toddlers she had to wait on tonight falling off her shoulders. “Well, you might be right. I had a very stressful evening.”

“Let me guess—you’re a waitress?”

Rey glances down at the apron still tied around her waist, her messy top knot shaking with the motion. “Very astute, Ben.”

His smile grows wide. “You remembered. Here, I have something special for you.” To her surprise he goes into the body of the truck and opens the back. “Come inside.”

She’s never been inside an ice cream truck before, and really there isn’t much room for one person, let alone two. Especially with how big Ben is. She can see him—all of him—now and he’s massive. He has to be well over 6 feet, broad shoulders hunched over as he reaches out for her hand. He yanks her up into the vehicle and for a moment she collides with his chest. He’s solid and warm and it makes her breath hitch just a little. “Hi,” she whispers.

“Hi,” he replies, brown eyes boring into hers. “I like to workshop new flavors. Try this.” He hands her a cup of purple colored ice cream.

Rey takes it and looks around the metal floor. Her eyes land on an overturned milkcrate, so she pops a squat and tries a spoonful. It’s sweet, but not overly sweet, with a rich smoothness that’s almost earthy. Her eyes roll back. “Oh god, Ben. This is amazing.”

“Yeah?” He looks bright and eager, like a kid showing off his science project.

“I think I just came.” She spoons another large bite into her mouth and watches his eyes cloud with lust. She clears her throat. “Uh, what is it?”

“Ube. It’s a Filipino purple yam. It’s become a pretty popular flavor in the city, so I thought we should give it a go—but my uncle isn’t a fan of change.”

“Your… uncle?”

“Yeah, my mom and uncle own the Wampa Freeze franchise, but he makes the flavor decisions. She handles all the financials—it’s kind of an ice cream empire. I  _ had _ a startup out in California, but we got bought by Facebook and my partner cheated me out of my share of the funds, so here I am… back home, slinging soft serve.” He sighs and pours a little of the ube ice cream for himself. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.”

Rey feels a little twinge in her chest—to think, she was so annoyed by the tinny music box tune of this truck. Who would’ve known someone like him was riding around inside? “Hey, Ben—it’s okay.” She places her hand on his knee for some reason, and his eyes dart up to hers.

It’s chilly inside for the ice cream of course, but all of a sudden, Rey feels heat flood her body. Ben narrows his gaze and the edges of his mouth curl. “You’ve got a little ice cream there.”

“Where?” She starts feeling around her mouth and down her chin, thinking she’s embarrassed herself.

“Here,” he says as he spoons a glob onto the corner of her lips. Then he’s licking it off, slowly, torturously, before claiming her mouth with his. She moans and her hands go immediately to encircle his neck, her fingers tangling in his slightly long hair. His mouth is cold from the soft serve and sweet with just a hint of cigarette on the back end—she doesn’t hate it at all. His tongue finds hers and that’s cold, too, but it quickly turns warm as they soldier on. Tasting, nipping, sucking.

When they pull back for air, Rey feels dazed. She’s also bone tired and if she doesn’t leave this tiny vehicle she’s going to fuck the ice cream man. Not that she minds, but—it  _ is _ late. “Thanks for letting me try the new flavor. It’s delicious.”

He wears a lopsided grin as he sits back, his hand ruffling his hair. “You think so, huh?”

“Absolutely I do.” And with that, she exits the truck.

* * *

Ben starts making it a regular thing—hanging around when Rey gets off work, giving her free ice cream, sticking his tongue down her throat. Now whenever she hears that blasted song, she starts getting horny. Like Pavlov’s vagina, or something. 

She thinks about asking him up to her apartment, but she’s always so tired when she gets off work. And she really would like to actually date him, not just snog in the back of the truck. Because, Ben—he’s kind of amazing. 

For now, he’s just helping out with his family’s ice cream business. But he’s on a leash—at least creatively. He has all these great ideas that no one listens to, and he’s intelligent and deep. They trade stories about troubled childhoods and future aspirations. She finds out he’s 9 years older and he’s got his own place in Brooklyn. She’s jealous—there’s no way she’d be able to afford a place on her own. Not that she minds her roommate, Rose. 

It’s 3pm on a Sunday and despite the heat, Rey decides to take a walk in the park, just to get out of the apartment. As she nears the entrance, a familiar sound wafts through the air and she feels a tingle between her legs. That damn song. 

The truck is there, kids lined up with their extra cash to get some ice cream. To her delight, she sees many of them walking away with a purple swirl in their cone. She saunters up to the window. “I see the ube is a hit!”

“Yeah, Uncle Luke relented when he saw it on the Food Network.”

Rey laughs. “You got a break coming up?”

“It’s a hot day. Lots of people want their ice cream.” He winks and the corners of his mouth creep upwards. 

“Okay… guess I’ll just go for my walk then.” She stomps away slowly. 

“Wait!” He hands a girl with bright pink hair her change. “Let me finish up this rush and then I can take a break.”

He gets everyone in line their soft serve and then closes the window, putting up a sign that says “Back in 5.” He opens up the back of the truck, beckoning her inside. “Hi.”

“Hi back.” She smiles. Maybe it’s the Pavlovian effect of the song, but as soon as the door closes behind Rey she lunges at him, nearly attacking his mouth with hers. They find a semi-comfortable position with him sitting on the floor, her straddling his lap.

It’s cold inside the truck, which feels good, considering the heat outside. Still, Rey feels a different kind of warmth coursing through her abdomen. They’ve been talking and kissing for almost 2 weeks now—she wants more. 

Ben tastes different today. There’s a sweetness on his tongue as it merges with hers. She pulls back to ask, “What flavor is that?”

“Black cherry pomegranate. You like it?”

“Yes, very much.” She thinks about maybe trying some—after. Her shirt comes up over her head and it almost makes her laugh the way Ben’s eyes nearly bug out of his head. She isn’t wearing a bra. 

“Here? Now?” He gulps and she watches his Adam’s apple move with the motion. She places a hungry kiss there. 

“If I have to wait any longer, I might combust.” Sure she’s being hyperbolic but  _ fuck _ , she wants him so badly. 

He nods and his lips are on her again. He moves them down her neck to her sternum and finally her breasts, enveloping one of her peaks in his hot, wet mouth. Rey moans and tangles her fingers in his luscious hair. It’s cramped quarters and she thinks she might injure something in this process, but she really doesn’t care. 

“Rey,” he groans as he pulls off his own shirt and suddenly her hands are on him. He’s solid as ice, which seems appropriate given their location.

“Look at you—you’re perfect,” she tells him. He is, and it’s really not fair. She feels too small or too plain or—

“And you’re gorgeous,” he murmurs, cutting off her inner traitorous thoughts. “Your tits are just the right size.”

He must mean it because he takes them both in his hands, marveling at how perfectly they fit. For once, she doesn’t feel too small. 

Rey smiles as she shimmies out of her shorts and panties. The space isn’t big enough to do anything too ambitious so she reaches for his belt buckle while he stares at her neatly trimmed pussy. He’s swallowing hard as his hand reaches for her, his gaze questioning. 

She nods and then he’s touching her, his fingers sliding through her wet heat. “Jesus, Rey. You’re soaked.”

“That’s your fault.” She finally frees his cock from his pants and her mouth goes dry. He’s bigger than she had imagined. “Oh Ben,” she breathes. 

He’s swirling his fingers around her clit and she bucks against his hand. She starts to stroke his shaft lightly, thumb smearing the bit of pre-come at his tip. If there was more room, she’d use her mouth. But the angle just won’t work right now. “I don’t have a condom,” he mumbles.

“That’s okay, I’m on the pill. You clean?” 

He nods and that’s the only signal she needs. She runs over the length of him with her drenched folds, letting his head bump her clit several times before she’s guiding him into her, sliding down his cock to the hilt. She has to pause and allow herself a moment to stretch around him. A moan escapes her lips once he’s fully sheathed in her. 

“I’ve never felt so full.”

“Rey… you feel  _ fantastic _ .” He groans when she starts to move, rolling her hips to push him out and back in. 

She starts out slow, finding what feels good, loving the angle. Before long though, he’s joining her, thrusting up into her with gusto—making the truck start to bounce ever so slightly. They lose themselves to the rhythm, grunting and panting as they work into a frenzy. The friction is too good, and Rey’s been waiting for this. 

It feels so right. 

So right that she forgets she’s fucking Ben, the ice cream man, in his truck in broad daylight. It’s been way longer than 5 minutes and his fingers are back on her clit as she pushes up and down, her tits bouncing with the movement. “Fuck, Ben!”

And then she’s falling over the edge, gripping his shoulders as the waves of her orgasm start, her muscles clenching around him tightly. She can feel intense spasms inside her, and feels the rush of warmth as he follows her with a groan. 

“HELLO? IS ANYONE IN THERE?!” Some kid is yelling outside and banging on the truck. 

Rey looks down at Ben and they both start laughing. She climbs off of him, mourning the loss of his heat as he slides out.  _ Until next time _ , she thinks. 

“If the truck is rocking, don’t come knocking!” Ben yells back to the would-be customer and Rey dissolves into another fit of giggles as she dresses. 

* * *

Word gets back to his uncle, and Ben is banned from driving the truck anymore. Instead, he’s now allowed to test his new flavor combinations in the kitchens. Soon they become a big hit and Rey even talks her manager into carrying it at the restaurant. 

They hire an eager young dude named Kaz to drive the truck around. The kids love him and Rey fixes the truck so the song can be turned off at will. It’s more for her benefit than anyone else’s—at least now she doesn’t have to be horny every time she hears that damn music.

The taste of ice cream still does it for her, though. Especially when it’s tasted via Ben’s tongue. Today his experimental flavor is goat cheese and honey. It’s delicious. She’s waiting for him to close up the shop so they can go back to his place. She’s practically leering as she watches him work. He eyes her with a grin. And this is how she learns that it’s even more delicious when he’s licking it off of her. 


End file.
